


When We Met

by Sammy_Canter



Series: 40 Minute Prompts [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blab, Gen, I wrote this in forty minutes guys, Kind of a personified death, Multiple events, So yeah, The dude is like, There isn't much more, Uhm, be nice, dying, it's also not edited, oh uh, that's the problem, very weird, what else???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-26 00:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18272321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammy_Canter/pseuds/Sammy_Canter
Summary: So I haven't been writing. At all. So I made sort of a box of slips of papers full of prompts that I'll have fourty minutes to write for. So yeah. Here's that. They're all chosen randomly, so I've gotta work with tons of things. Yaaaaay. These also aren't edited because the whole point is for it not to be edited, so yeah. That's that.#77; "He was older than expected".





	When We Met

When I first met Death, I was three years old. 

I remember hopping from mattress to mattress in my sister and my bedroom in an attempt to prove to myself that if I tried hard enough, I could fly. If I hopped from her bed to mine enough, soon I would be able to soar through the open window and feel the breeze in my hair as I looked down on the buildings below. 

I remember standing near the window and grinning as I imagined the shocked faces of my family members when I proved them wrong. When I showed them I could do it, even though Mommy laughed and Sissy scoffed. 

And so with an excited squeal, I jumped. But as it turns out, little boys can't jump out of windows without dying. Or at least, without meeting Death. 

Death didn't look like the devil, nor did he wear a cloak. Instead, he looked more like a she, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to change color whenever she opened and closed them. 

She sat below my window in the grass, holding a flower. I wasn't able to move- instead, I was stuck mid-jump in the air. 

Death smiled. "So, you're Lucas. I've been wondering when we would meet- though, I never thought it would be so soon... You're only three, right?" 

I nodded- it seemed like my mouth was glued shut. Death didn't mind, clucking her tongue at me. 

"Tell you what," She said, twirling her finger on a strand of hair, "How about you stay away from the window from now on, and I'll let you off the hook? Can't have you dying at age three, can we?" She giggled and plucked herself from the ground. "See ya soon- but not too soon. I hope. Love you, Kiddo." 

And she was gone. 

Daddy was somehow outside in the exact place I fell. He was able to catch me before I hit the ground. Before I... Well. 

Nobody believed me when I spoke of the lady who sat outside my window that day. 

We met again when I was fourteen. He was older than expected, with a beard that went down to his knees and a frail form I was afraid would turn to dust at any moment. I didn't know it was him at first, whether that was because of his new form or because the flames engulfing my bedroom were too distracting, I'm not sure. I remember screaming for help, smoke burning my eyes and my throat as I thought 'oh god, this is the end isn't it-' 

But then he was there, holding my arm in an attempt to either calm me down or get my attention. For a moment, I almost asked who he was or why he wasn't in as much pain as I was. When I saw his eyes, however... I knew. 

"Please," I begged, looking into his changing baby blues, "I- I'm only fourteen, I didn't say goodbye-" I couldn't get anything else out after that.

It was too hot. 

My lungs are burning. 

What will people think?

I should have turned off the oven tops. 

I'm dying. 

And then I'm awake, gasping for air in a hospital bed. Dad is crying while Mom prays. I can still hear Death's whisper, though, as he stands across the room near the corner. He holds up two bony fingers. 

"Strike two."

When I meet death for the last time, I want him to leave more than ever. It's a car accident- stupid, stupid me, I knew I should have taken the train- and my daughter is in the backseat, asleep. 

After this, will she ever wake up? 

Death sits in the passenger seat, a sad smile on her face. Yes, her now, though she now has curly hair and freckles that shine against the darkness of the storm outside. We look at each other for a moment, just so I can take it in. I want to cry. 

"No more chances?" I ask, and she shakes her head. The car has stopped in the middle of the road, just as a semi truck is about to hit it head-on. I look back at my little girl. After this, I'll be gone. 

"What about..." I want to know if she'll be okay after this, or if Death won't just be taking me. Death sighs at the unspoken question. 

"I can't promise that her time won't come even a day after this. But I can tell you that this isn't it." 

I gulp. It isn't the answer I want, but it' is what I'm getting. 

"I..." It takes me a moment to speak, but I eventually get it out. "I don't think I'm-" 

"Ready?" She snorts, looking at the frozen rain. "I don't think anyone is when the time comes. The real question is..." She holds out her palm, fingers slightly curved. "Do you   
have the courage to let go?" 

It's hard. I have a child. Parents. What will they do when I'm gone?

Where will I go? 

But I don't have much of a choice- Death is being nice. So I smile my way through it. Prepare myself for impact. 

And I take Death's hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry not sorry.


End file.
